


The Canary effect

by SylviaGoldingSmith



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c., Politics - Fandom
Genre: :3, Present future, a future where the lib dems will fix everything yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 08:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10213535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylviaGoldingSmith/pseuds/SylviaGoldingSmith
Summary: This is just a short story I wrote for my English final exam :3 So of it might not be very sound  but I don't thinks it's that bad and I got an A so : P This takes place in the future and has fictional characters~





	

“....One of the ways to defeat terrorism is to show them we cannot be cowed…” - David Cameron,

“The Prime Minister seems to be under the illusion...” the Leader of the Opposition paused to look over his glasses in a patronising manner. “...that a party that has never been in government, never had a Prime Minister, never even had enough seats to fully represent themselves could now govern without the support from either the Labour Party or Conservative Party through a coalition.” He declared while stabbing dramatically at the despatch box at each point. It was honestly quite amusing. The Prime Minister smiled, her tongue in cheek. “How does the Prime Minister intend to govern when her party barely fills the benches opposite?” She stared down at her notes in a bored manner, then looked up again at the benches opposite, quizzically, as if to say Are you quite finished?  
The Prime Minister shot up giving a knowing smile to her frontbench. “Anne Mcmillan!” She barely heard the Speaker call her name as the loud cheers hit her face from across the house, filling her with a sort of mad glee. This was what she lived for. The utter madness that surrounded her, where members of parliament asked a number of diverse questions to one individual, while grown adults competed in some sort of heckling contest. To her it was the one highlight of her busy, stress filled week. However, she job.assumed that she only really enjoyed it because the government --her party-- was actually doing a good  
“Mr Speaker, I find it comical and slightly insulting, that the Labour Party, a party that has fallen to pieces ever since the EU referendum in 2016, is now telling the Lib Dems how to run both a party and a government. How can the Right Honourable gentleman tell me that I should either join forces with a party that is divided, or a party that since the 2020 general election has practically been cut in half, making up less than half of the bench opposite? While, they stand divided, we have grown stronger and are ready to finally govern the nation. Already, in the space of half a year, we have seen an increase in national interest, the deficit has decreased drastically, public spending has gone down, there are more jobs, doctors and nurses have better working hours and yes! We have cut education fees.” The house erupted with laughter. Cheers broke out throughout her bench. She looked over to her party. Through the cheers there was still a united wince, a collected remembrance of broken promises that almost led to their party’s end. However, the Lib Dems lasted a lot longer than everyone had thought. At that moment pride ran through her heart at the thought of finally being able to prove everyone wrong. We’ve done it. We’re doing well. She leant forward slightly and looked judgingly at the Leader of the Opposition. “Perhaps the Labour Party should sort out their own issues before criticizing us on past issues that have already been dealt with.” The Prime Minister sat down with a triumphant smile. The people around her giving welcomed support with the words “here, here”. She tried to catch his eye. It was a funny thing, that even though she tried her best to hit the opposition, she never really wished to cause great offense. “Passive-aggressive” was a trademark within the party. The leader of the opposition shook his head, his mouth flickering into a small smile. She didn’t agree with most of the things the old man said, but at least they managed to get along.  
The session finished and the Prime Minister made her way out of the chamber. Her head still filled with that giddiness. There was a cheerful buzz amongst her party as people left the benches, happy because they had won this session. Their party had been winning a lot lately. It was practically impossible to believe. The party as a whole was still very insecure and unsure of itself as a government--though they would never admit it. For years, they had been the butt of all jokes and after the embarrassment of a coalition with the Conservatives, the party almost went into extinction. Nobody had felt ready for this. It was the youth of the party--which included Anne herself-- that kept the party looking confident. Anne made her way through the house, struggling through the masses who gossiped as if they didn’t have work to be doing.  
She did have things to do. An elderly, rather chubby Conservative --of which there were many-- approached to talk about the increase of fictional books in schools. How tedious. At that moment a hand grabbed at her shoulder and forced her out of the crowd. “Sorry!” A familiar voice yelled. As they made their way through, Anne gazed behind her in alarm but relaxed as a familiar face gave her an exaggerated smile accompanied with a peace sign. People stared bemused as they ran past, looking like a two-man train. Or rather, a two-woman train. “Mate! I think you can stop now. It’s getting juvenile.” She whispered in an exasperated tone. The hand slapped at her shoulder as it let go. “Firstly, don’t matronise me,” She complained using her favourite feminist put-down. “I’m the one that’s makes you look even remotely modern and fashionable so please.” Anne walked ahead to hide her eye roll. “And secondly?”  
She turned to see her Chancellor looking puzzled. “I’ve forgotten...oh! Did you see Jezza’s face in there?!” She smiled mischievously as she pointed back to the chambers. Anne gave a slight giggle as she tried her best impression of Jeremy Corbyn in defeat. They rushed out of the house and made their way through the busy streets of London. Various politicians wandered around behind them, all making their way back to work, wherever that may be. In Anne’s case it was 10 Downing Street --and she was proud of that. The Chancellor walked in an excited fashion beside her. “I swear I can’t believe it’s so easy, he’ll be defeated in no time.” she proclaimed happily. “Maryam...” Anne stared at her and Maryam recoiled in mock fear. “The Leader of the Opposition is not some malevolent dragon. Our job isn’t to slay him, nor to make him resign-- which will never happen by the way because he’s stubborn,” Maryam nodded in agreement, her eyes widening. Stubborn. What an understatement. They reached Anne’s home and workplace, Number 10. Anne turned to her dear friend as the front door was opened, “No, our job is to make sure their party remembers all the mistakes they’ve done and to persuade them to fix them.” Maryam made a face and nodded her head. She wasn’t convinced. Anne pulled her inside with a sigh, the lady holding the door was getting impatient. “And if...” She said in between all the “hellos” to her staff, Maryam said, “hello” as well, but it always brought more annoyance to her than to Anne, “...the role is too difficult for Mr. Corbyn and he DOES resign...well, then what can I say?” She shrugged her shoulders to emphasize her indifference. Maryam laughed.  
As Anne turned to her office, someone shouted her name through the corridor. Almost deadly, she froze. Maryam swore unintelligibly. All those around her seemed annoyed at this abrupt noise, but the two of them followed the shriek in fear. A figure rushed to their side. It was Bernard, the Prime Minister’s Permanent Secretary. “Prime Minister!” he gasped loudly and clumsily dropped his diary on the floor. Anne did adore him, the most likeable civil servant in England, but poor Bernard was rather over dramatic at times. Anne helped him up as he collected his things from the floor. “Calm down Bernard. You’ll waste more time if you panic like this.” Bernard nodded as he gathered himself. He looked very worried. “Yes Prime Minister, I-,” “What happened?!” Maryam snapped curtly. This was the first time she spoke. Her face was emotionless. Her eyes widened with fear. Anne, who was quite shocked by all this, turned to Bernard who was equally distressed. The fear returned to her as she gazed at her friend, and her face turned just as emotionless. “What happened?” She was still holding onto him. Bernard sighed solemnly. “It’s happened again, another attack.” Anne recoiled slightly, her heart suddenly plummeting inside from the weight of the words. Maryam did nothing but gasp faintly from her mask of equanimity. Anne felt very stiff. She wanted to hide, but that went against her duty. She looked back shyly at him, “England?” She trembled slightly at the words, she feared the answer. Maryam held tightly to Anne’s wrist. Bernard sighed once more, “No Prime Minister,” Maryam loosened her grip. Anne closed her eyes, she exhaled heavily. Thank God is what all three thought. Suddenly, Anne darted down the corridor. “Come on!” She cried as the other two followed behind bemused.  
Anne entered her waiting room to hear raised voices coming from her office. “Be sensible for once John!” “It’s the only way!” She entered her office to find her Cabinet gathered around the other end of the table watching the large television. Two members were arguing loudly in the corner of the room. “Oy! Stop that now, this isn’t the time!” She barked as she rushed to the television. “But-” Michael began. Anne glared at them, “Not now Michael!” She sat on the table. Maryam sat beside her.  
It was true. It was on all the channels. Yet another attack. It was horrific. It seemed as though these scenes were just becoming some sad normality. An act of barbarism that resulted in the unnecessary death of dozens. And for what? Anne didn’t really know anymore. No one did. “I mean,” exclaimed the Health Secretary, “it’s 2030! Surely they know that this savagery achieves nothing. And never did!” Everyone shook their head in desperate resignation. Maryam turned away from the television, moving away from the group in no particular direction. How she must hate this. She clutched at her side with one hand, the other hand covering her mouth. Anne watched somberly. “Are you sure it’s them?” She asked, not looking. “Who else would it be?” Michael said quietly as he stared at the TV. Maryam turned to face them. There was a far off look in her eye. “What can we do?” She asked hesitantly. Anne stood away from the table feeling a bit lost. “Well, obviously the first thing that we should do is to show our support and empathy for the families that were gravely affected by this atrocity.” Maryam nodded, still in thought. “That won’t be difficult,” muttered Michael as he grimaced. Anne turned to her Permanent Secretary. “Right, Bernard call the Press Office and ask when they can arrange a meeting with the press.” “Yes Prime Minister, although you do still have a meeting with the Cabinet Secretary in the afternoon.” he replied collecting his diary. “Oh that can wait Bernard!” Bernard nodded curtly and left the room. Anne gazed at Maryam who was still worried. “Maryam it’ll be alright.” She held her arm, their eyes met for the first time. “It’s just...we have to help them.” Maryam looked unusually helpless. Michael coughed loudly. Anne raised an eyebrow. “That is exactly what we were arguing about,” He pointed to John, the Health Secretary. Anne rolled her eyes. Maryam groaned and sat in a lounge chair by the window. Michael nodded at the unanimous exasperation that filled the room: “Go on; tell them what you told me.” He spread his arms towards the Cabinet, giving the floor to John. John scowled, “I… I just think we should maybe increase military action in imminent danger zones” The whole room erupted with interjection, people turned to the Prime Minister in objection. Anne’s eyes widened, she just couldn’t comprehend it. “That won’t solve anything!” She stated in a sort of anger that comes from having the same argument once too often. “The Government already tried to increase military action and launched airstrikes and what did that do? Nothing!” She grabbed at a chair for support. “You can’t possibly do that!” Maryam cried indignantly as she sat up in her chair. John glared at the crowd. “I don't see why not! People are going to ask why we didn’t do it! It’ll look like we want to help.” Maryam stood up, “We’re not doing it because it’s expensive, unnecessary and kills far more innocent people than guilty. If anything, it goes against what our party stands for.” John shrugged, not looking her in the eye. “All I know is that people will ask for it. The Labour Party probably will. Surely you would want it as well...a chance to stop it all...” John whispered meekly. He lifted his head and raised an eyebrow. Not accusingly, but in a sly, questioning manner. Taking a shot at the elephant in the room. Maryam’s eyes narrowed, she was close to losing her composure. Everyone in the room froze for a second. Not sure if they were angry or amazed. Anne quickly interjected, “If we want help then we can send money to help, not spend money to kill more people. How can the Labour Party want an airstrike? They were against it last time.” John shook his head; “New leadership.” He said it as if it were obvious. Anne thought for a while. “You may be right...but even then I want it clear that we won’t do it!” The Cabinet mumbled in agreement. John sighed, “But it will make people happy and everything will calm down.” Anne snapped, “It won’t make people happy! And If they are, then they haven’t understood the consequences of what we have done. And anyway, it isn’t our job to make people happy. It’s our responsibility to make sure everyone’s healthy and living at least moderately well. Happiness is extra.” She gazed at the television to see people crying for their loved ones. We can’t do it. “That’s my final word. Now if you could all leave please,” She ushered them out with her arm, “I have a lot of work I need to do.” The Cabinet slowly exited the office. John looked over his shoulder as he stood by the door, “They’ll want to do it you know. You should expect that.” Anne looked away not wanting to be patronised by a man who knew nothing of military tactics in the first place.  
“ It is two-thousand and thirty and the perpetrators of these atrocities are still active. They are still trying to oppress us. Still trying to break us down for reasons that are beyond comprehension. We can not lose heart. Compassion and spirit should unite us everyday and especially on days like these. We must show them that we have seen these acts too many times to be cowed.” - Anne Mcmillan, Public Address on 04.12.30  
Anne sat in her office impatiently. She stared at the large clock on the wall. He was late. What a day. A week was a long time in politics, and today felt like forever. She fidgeted with the empty glasses on the desk. Was he doing this on purpose? Her mind was being childish. In the distance Big Ben chimed four o'clock. Annoyed by this tardiness, she got up to phone him. However, as she did, a distinctly well-spoken and moneyed voice could be heard from outside her office. It was him. He was doing this on purpose. She rushed to a lounge chair and sat down while putting on her reading glasses. The door opened and Bernard entered. “David Cameron to see you, Prime Minister.” He said, smiling discreetly at the reading glasses which he knew she hardly ever used. “Ah, show him in Bernard” She said coolly. Bernard exited the room and David walked in. Anne had never really met David properly, and it was quite odd to think of her strange teenage days spent fussing over him with her friends. She had always felt mildly of sorry for him, especially after the Brexit ordeal. David looked around the room, his expression almost unreadable, perhaps it was awe. Anne smiled, “seem familiar?” David looked at her and gave a small smile. He sat down hesitantly. Anne shook her head, “there was a reason I called for you,” David fell quiet and attentive. “It’s about this morning.” David’s face went serious, “A tragic incident.” he whispered. “I know. I spoke to the president. It was awful. What does one say?” She bit her lip remembering the fear, the sorrow in his voice. David nodded in understanding, “Well, you usually make up for it in what you do to help.” Anne also nodded. She felt as if he were her newfound mentor. It was ominous. “Actually that is what I wished to talk to you about.” She poured a drink from a decanter on the table and gave it to David. She grasped her drink tightly. “Earlier today, certain members of my cabinet said that the Labour Party would propose another airstrike-” David grimaced, “ I believe they are already doing so”. Anne gasped slightly, “why would they, when they were against it before?” She sighed in aggravation. “Because they are desperate to help, and because they seem to think it was successful before,” answered David looking away. “During the airstrike vote that you and your party proposed.” She stated. Anne couldn’t stop herself from blurting out such an accusation. Every true LibDem would not hesitate. Passive-aggressive was the trademark. David still didn’t meet her eye, “I’ve seen what’s happening now,” “A few years too late I fear,” Anne let the guilt waft through the air. He glared at her, “The point still stands, you can’t do this, it doesn’t work.” Anne nodded slowly, “I wasn’t planning to, apart from the very idea being unnecessary, it goes against what my party believes in.” David rolled his eyes, “And anyway, why wouldn’t they have this vote? It’s the perfect plan. If we vote to do this then the Lib Dems will lose face and may even go as far as to give up power. It goes against the party’s policy, remember? And the Tory party will be right behind that because the election frankly embarrassed us.” Anne tilted her eyes in disbelief. The world is full of rats.  
“So why call for me? I’m not the Prime Minister...and I was in favour of the idea last time.” His voice exuded bitterness. “But you were the Prime Minister. I would like your advice on what to do, what to say.” She looked helplessly at David, “Why don’t you talk with someone who was opposed to it?” He asked curiously. “I don’t want advice from Miliband! For once, I don’t want advice from Theresa. I want advice from you because as a former Prime Minister, I look up to you as well.” David smiled slightly but then shook his head. “I really have nothing to tell you. All that really matters,” he got up, “is how much you want to win. How much you care about this vote. I know you will do well. You are the first Lib Dem Prime Minister after all. You’re different.” Anne smiled her inner doubt diminishing slightly, but only slightly. Trust was still not quite there. “Thanks David.” David nodded and as he walked out the door he chuckled, “And I’ll tell Nick that I’m your favourite.” She shouted back, “Well, he was never PM” There was a laugh. Anne couldn’t stand the idea of letting her party down. For this to come at a time when they had just gotten power was too cruel.  
-11.12.30-  
“Anne McMillan!” “Thank you, Mr Speaker in light of recent events, I would like to turn to the proposal to launch airstrikes.” There were boos coming from behind her and even from across the despatch box. She nodded, “Although I agree with the Labour leader that we should be there to help as allies, I believe this proposal is frankly a waste of time. If we are to help, then I suggest we use the money we would have spent on air strikes and send medical aid. That would be better than a military venture that achieves nothing.” Anne sat down and looked at those opposite. They were silent. Fat cat Tory MPs were sitting lazily in their seats looking patronisingly smug. She looked away trying not to seem nervous. She heard laughter from their direction. Had she done enough?  
“Jeremy Corbyn!” The labour leader arose at the sound of his name. It was amazing how a man so old could lead a party. Barely lead mind you.  
-18.12.30-  
She stared across at Jeremy as he sat down. He looked tense, while his party looked mildly vexed. The party did not look unanimous. That gave her a bit more confidence. Maryam squeezed her arm. “Kill ‘em” She whispered coolly. They exchanged nervous smiles. “Anne McMillan!” She stood up immediately not daring to be hesitant. She had to be strong. They couldn’t go wrong this early. -25.12.30-  
“Mr Speaker, what are we doing here?” Anne looked around, and everyone looked to the speaker accusingly “I honestly thought that such an idea would simply have gone away by now. We can not launch these airstrikes. If we must intervene once more, I think it is only right to find a more political solution, because this attack will ultimately lead to the death of innocent people. It does not matter how well it is planned. So, there will be another election? Over this? The British public are exhausted. The last thing they want is to choose between two very unstable parties.  
We never learn our lesson. And we have tried this before, too many times to not learn our lesson. We have learnt that these attacks don’t scare these monsters. Which means we are just scaring innocent civilians. Civilians who probably think we are just as horrific. That shouldn’t be who we are. If we want to defeat terror, then we must help the civilians. Make them stronger. A group united by strength and health will overpower any terrorist. So we are left with two paths. One, vote for an airstrike and be left with a fruitless result and the death of more human beings, ultimately watching as this whole gruesome endeavour turns into another Iraq before our very eyes. Or, we vote against an airstrike and send help to try to make the lives of civilians better. I strongly believe we should take the latter path, the path of humanity. Then we can go home and have a Christmas of peace.”  
She sat down, her heart feeling heavy. For a second, she was met with suffocating, palpable silence. Only broken by the spontaneous applause of people among her party as they cheered, waving their order papers. The cheers spread throughout the chamber. She looked into the faces of her MPs, boldly. They smiled, but they were just as scared. Did it work? There was a lowered whisper spreading amongst opposition benches. People were starting to look hesitant, worried. The fat cats still looked annoyingly unshaken but were in serious conversation with each other. Did we do it? Was that enough? They would know soon enough.  
Maryam grabbed at Anne as the Speaker picked up the results. Anne felt trapped, as if she were truly being suffocated. Buried alive. Doubt eating at her. There was more you could have said. More you could have done. She watched the Speaker’s every movement, not letting her eyes go for a second. Maryam grabbed tighter as she watched attentively, her face deadpan. The Speaker opened the results. “The Ayes to the right, 272. The Noes to the left, 282.” Anne turned slowly towards Maryam like she had just been spoken to in Latin. Is this true? Her mind couldn't think. Couldn’t comprehend. “The Ayes to the right, 272. The Noes to the left, 282. So the Noes have it.”  
Maryam exhaled loudly, breaking into a smile as she looked up at the heavens. Anne was frozen. They had won. More amazing than winning the election. Better than being able to govern. Anne had led her government to success. You could physically feel the room lighting up as members of her party realised that they wouldn’t be losing their seats and their party itself. There was a united sigh of relief. And a shriek as Michael gave John a smack round the head. Anne looked to the Leader of the Opposition. He looked annoyed, but not angry. That was good enough for her, he was usually grumpy anyway. The fat cats caught her glance and collectively applauded politely, mouthing the words, “well done” She nodded slowly. Thank you. How patronising, but thank you. Suddenly there was a ping at her side, and she reached out to retrieve her phone. It was a text, from David of all people. “Lookup.” Anne was confused. She looked up slowly. It was David standing in the Gallery. He smiled and waved. Anne felt awkward, but never the less pleased to see him. He watched the whole thing? She felt slightly embarrassed. There was another ping. “WELL DONE” the text shouted. She rolled her eyes. How fat cat-ish you’re getting in your old age Cameron. She looked up and gave an exaggerated wide smile and a peace sign. She replied, “Thanks Camers. How Patronising, but thanks.”  
Maybe because it was Christmas. Maybe that helped them win, or perhaps it was truly them, the Liberal Democrats, who made this turn of events possible. Time would tell. For now, they were still the party that won. Won for a good cause. A small village somewhere would sleep without disruption, without death. For one day. For Christmas. A time of peace on Earth. -


End file.
